


Beauty in the Broken

by MajorWolfe



Category: Holby City
Genre: AU, Depression, F/F, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorWolfe/pseuds/MajorWolfe
Summary: When Major Berenice Wolfe gets blown back to civilian life with a bang (literally) her GP suggests that seeing a therapist might help her adjust to the new life that's been forced upon her.  Will Doctor Serena Campbell be able to help her, or is Bernie too broken to be fixed?A 'Serena is Bernie's therapist' AU, vaguely inspired by Duet for One.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted a little sneaky peak for this on tumblr/twitter yesterday, and had quite a few people tell me how much they liked it, so here's the first chapter, I'm not going to guarantee weekly updates on this one but I'll do my best! I'd love to know what you think :)

“Mrs Wolfe?” the woman questioned, despite there being only one other person in the small corridor, a woman about her age with messy blonde hair, sat in one of the old chairs, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but there, but that was nothing new, a lot of people she met for the first time had a similar look on their faces. 

The blonde sighed as she picked up the crutches that had been leaning against the wall beside her, using the implements to heave herself to her feet with great effort. “It's Ms Wolfe actually” she finally replied. 

“Sorry, Ms Wolfe, it’s just down here, the room at the end, do you think you can manage that?” she asked when she saw how much the woman was struggling to walk.

Bernie rolled her eyes as she slowly followed the brunette down the long corridor, not for the first time wishing that her legs would cooperate with her brain. “I'll have to” she mumbled under her breath, “it's not like you can move the room closer can you?” 

“Well no but…” the brunette trailed off, it was obvious that her newest client had a strong personality and she only hoped the woman wouldn't be too headstrong, that she’d be able to help her. 

They entered the room, “oh how quaint” Bernie remarked sarcastically as she glanced around the fairly large room, the walls painted a pale green colour, probably intended to be calming, Bernie reasoned. It wasn't working though, she was bored from waiting 10 minutes past her appointment time, she was frustrated at having to be here in the first place and, as always, her right knee and hip were agony and her left leg wasn’t doing much better. 

“Yes, well… take a seat” the brunette gestured into the room, “anywhere you like.” 

Bernie paused, mentally evaluating her choices, the chaise long in the corner of the room was much too low, she’d never be able to get herself up again, and the chair opposite the large wooden desk looked too hard to be comfortable for her so she slowly made her way over to two large armchairs set in the bay window, conveniently the furthest seats from the door. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the pain as she limped over, all but dragging her right leg behind her. 

“If none of these are suitable, I could…” 

“No” Bernie inhaled sharply as she lowered herself into the seat, “here is fine.” She didn't want to move again, wasn't sure she could, if  it wasn't for her injuries she’d probably attempt to climb out of the window to get away, but, as it was, she was here. She was here and there was no way she was leaving before the hour was up, it would take her that long, at least, to gather enough energy to make her way over to the door again. 

“Well, as you probably know” the brunette picked up a notebook and a pen from her desk before sitting in the empty armchair, “I'm Doctor Campbell but you can call me Serena if you’d rather. Can I get you a tea or a coffee before we begin?” Bernie shook her head and Serena nodded, “Okay, let's get started then, do you want to tell me, in your own words, why you think you're here?"

Bernie shrugged, “I got blown up. My spinal cord was damaged and my GP thinks I might be…” she made air quotes, “depressed”. 

“And do you think that you're…” it was Serena’s turn to make the air quotes, “depressed?”

Bernie shrugged again as she thought about her answer, “probably, I think it's a natural reaction.” 

“To what?”

“To being blown up, to having your entire life turned upside down, to going from wanting to accept a full commission with the army to laying flat on your back in a hospital bed with your husband having to hold a straw to your lips every time you want a drink.”

“Is your husband supportive?” Serena prompted, wanting to get an insight into the woman’s family life. 

Bernie laughed sarcastically, “hardly, he served me with divorce papers three months ago.” 

“Oh?” Serena wanted Bernie to continue, but she couldn't read the blonde like she could most of her other clients and was wary of pushing her too far too soon. 

The blonde stared past the brunette, her eyes fixed on an unspecified point in the gardens outside, not looking her in the eye, “oh indeed” she mumbled, not wanting to talk any more about her marriage or the events that lead to it’s breakdown. 

A tense few minutes of silence passed, Serena studying Bernie, Bernie studying the view from the window. She was vaguely considering picking up her crutches and fighting against the aches in her legs telling her she’d already done too much today, to leave, when Serena asked her, “what did you do in the Army?”

“I was a major in the medical corps, a trauma surgeon.” 

Serena scribbled something down in her notebook, “and now?” 

“And now I'm just Bernie. Some days I can hardly drag myself out of bed, it was only six months ago that I managed to hold a pen for long enough to write my own name, I doubt I'd be let anywhere near an operating theatre, in the army or anywhere else.”

“That must be frustrating for you.” 

“Yes” Bernie suddenly found her own feet interesting to look out, “you could say that.” 

“Did your doctor ever suggest antidepressants?” Serena asked after another long silence. 

“He gave me a prescription. I never collected it though.” 

“Can I ask why?”

“I read up on the side effects. It didn't seem worth it.” 

“The side effects aren't a guarantee as you know” Serena underlined the word ‘surgeon’ on the notes she’d made to remind herself that the woman opposite was a medic herself, that she didn't need to explain things as basically as she did to some of her other clients. 

“I know” Bernie nodded, “but it’s enough trying to deal with the side effects from my other medications, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.” 

“It could be worth a try” Serena offered, “we could try and find an antidepressant that works for you, one that lifts your mood without causing too many, if any side effects.” 

“And that'll make everything better will it?” Bernie snapped, the pain in her leg making her grumpier than usual. “Slip me a few happy pills and I'll stop being sad about the fact that my life has fallen to pieces around me.” 

“No, no, that's not what I was suggesting at all, but if…” 

Bernie shook her head, interrupting Serena as she reached for her crutches, “I'm sorry for wasting your time Ms Campbell, but I don't think this is going to work, there's no point us both sitting here when I'm sure you've got other people to see, more important things to do.” She took a deep breath, biting her lip at the pain that shot through her leg, already knowing she wouldn't be moving from her bed for the next few days, “thank you for your time.” 

Serena didn't stop Bernie, had an unspoken rule that she wouldn't stop her clients from leaving if they chose to do so, but even so, she found herself following the blonde down the corridor a few moments later, knowing the latch on the old door could be stiff sometimes. 

Bernie didn't need help though, she opened the door with ease, and, after sending a harsh glare in the direction of the two stone steps in front of her, she slowly made her way down the first step, gritting her teeth and cursing under her breath. The second step proved to be more of a challenge and Serena arrived in the doorway just in time to see Bernie’s right knee give way as the blonde tumbled to the floor with a quiet yelp. 

“Ms Wolfe” Serena rushed over, intending to help, but Bernie held up a hand to stop her. 

“Please” she whispered, desperately trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes, “just go.” 

“Your hand!” Serena gasped, causing Bernie to glance down at her palm, quickly balling her hand into a fist when she saw the blood. 

“It's fine” Bernie insisted, “just… Just leave me. Please.”

Serena nodded and stood from where she’d crouched on the stairs, “as you wish Ms Wolfe” she said, taking one last look at the blonde before heading back inside. 

She made her way back to her office, tidying up a few papers and making a few more notes on Bernie, just on the off chance that she’d make another appointment, no matter how likely it seemed right now. But fifteen minutes later she found herself making her way into the small kitchen at the front of the house, partly because she wanted a cup of tea before her next appointment, but mostly because she wanted to make sure Bernie wasn't still laying on the floor, too stubborn to ask for help. 

Relief washed over her body as she saw that the other woman was now sat on the wall outside her property, a cigarette smouldering between the fingers of her left hand. She remained unseen, watching as a car pulled up by Bernie, the number of a local taxi firm painted on the side. And as the driver got out to assist Bernie into the car, Serena felt herself almost dismayed to see that the woman's limp was even worse than when she’d first seen her. But as the car drove away, Serena resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing more that she could do unless Ms Wolfe booked a second appointment. 

Bernie tipped the taxi driver generously as he all but carried her to the door of her, fully adapted, ground floor flat. She’d been using the same taxi company since she’d moved in and they’d grown used to her, always parking as close as they could to the door and offering their assistance should she need it. 

She took a moment to glance around the flat once she’d locked the door. She hated it, everything was so stark and ‘medical’. She shot a particularly nasty glare at both the wheelchair and mobility scooter by the door, items which she never used, despite the fact that her aching body would probably be grateful for the wheelchair right about now, she wasn't going to do it, she wanted her independence back, and to her, that meant walking, no matter how painful or difficult that was. 

She slowly made her way into her bedroom, collapsing awkwardly on the bed as she managed to pull off her jeans, a quick glance at her right knee telling her that it was already beginning to swell and bruise. She blinked back more tears, both of pain and frustration as she pushed herself to sit up against the head of the bed, glancing over the assortment of pharmaceutical boxes on her bedside table and pulling out the two that she wanted. 

The painkillers were washed down easily with the bottle of water she kept by her tablets and she tapped the second box against the duvet for a moment before deciding to ignore the instructions on the packet to “take one tablet each night” and popped two of the sleeping tablets into her hand, washing those down with more water and putting the box back by the bed. She spent an awkward few moments shifting in the bed trying to make herself vaguely comfortable before closing her eyes and willing sleep to come. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure if or when I'll finish chapter 3, I seem to have hit a rather large wall when it comes to writing this, but I've finished chapter 2, so I thought I'd share it with you!
> 
> There are brief mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts in this chapter, so please take care if you think you might be triggered by that.

Serena was more than surprised when, almost a month after their first meeting, she looked at her diary for the day to see that she had a 2.30 appointment with ‘B. Wolfe’

She was even more surprised when, at 2.25 the woman in question was found, sitting once again in the chairs in the corridor, “do you want to come through?” Serena asked as she gestured down the corridor towards her office. Bernie nodded, a look of determination on her face as she slowly made her way down the corridor.

Bernie couldn't hold back a smile when she noticed that the two armchairs had been moved closer to the door, only they were no longer in line, meaning one chair, the one Bernie carefully lowered herself into, still had a view into the garden and she wouldn't have to make eye contact with Serena unless she wanted to, “thank you” she said quietly as she propped her crutches against the wall.

Serena returned the smile and nodded in acknowledgement of Bernie’s thanks, she’d moved the chairs after her last client had left, assuming Bernie would want to sit there again but not wanting her to have to struggle across the room, “would you like a tea or a coffee before we start?”

Bernie bit her lip for a moment before asking, “could I have a glass of water please?”

“Of course” Serena nodded, “I won't be a moment”. She left the room and returned moments later with a pint glass full of water, so cold Bernie could see the condensation forming on the glass, “there you go” she pulled over a small end table, placing it beside the armchair so Bernie wouldn't have to hold the glass for the whole session, or for as long as she stayed.

She picked up her notebook and pen from her desk before sitting in the second armchair, Bernie speaking before she had the chance, “I suppose you're wondering why I came back?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes" Serena admitted.

Bernie picked up her glass and took a sip, running her finger around the rim before wiping at a bead of condensation, “A erm. A ‘friend’ convinced me to give it another go, she erm, she thinks I should probably take you up on your offer of antidepressants too, she says that my current coping methods aren't exactly ‘healthy’.”

Serena noticed the tone in which Bernie said the word ‘friend’ but didn't mention it, instead asking the question Bernie had been expecting, “can I ask what those coping methods are?”

Bernie chewed her bottom lip, still running her finger around the rim of the glass as she tried to decide whether or not to answer the question before remembering the promise she’d made, that she’d make the effort with Serena no matter how tough it was, “self medicating” Bernie finally admitted, “too much ‘medicinal’ whiskey, an extra couple of painkillers here and there, an extra sleeping tablet on the bad days so I sleep through the next day too…”

Serena scribbled in her notebook, “when you mention bad days, do you mean mentally or physically?”

Bernie shrugged before answering, “both.”

“Can I ask if you've ever had thoughts of suicide?” Serena asked gently, Bernie’s silence and the look on her face answered for her, “and are you still having those thoughts?” again she got no response, “would you like to talk about something else?” Bernie gave a single nod and Serena smiled sadly, “I can certainly prescribe you something to help lessen the amount of mental bad days that you have” she told her, “and if you find they don't agree with you or if the side effects are too much then we can try something else.”

Bernie gave another nod and raised her head to take another sip of water in an attempt to rid herself of the lump in her throat. Serena swore she saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes but, as usual, Bernie didn't make eye contact, her gaze falling straight back to her lap as she whispered, “thank you.”

Serena thought for a moment, wondering whether to ask the question on her mind or to move back to ‘safer’ subjects, but Bernie seemed more willing to try this time, so she gently reminded her, “we can move onto something else if this is too hard for you to talk about right now, but, what is it that makes the bad days bad?”

Unsurprisingly, Bernie didn’t look up, instead choosing to repetitively swipe her thumb against the side of the glass as she tried to put her feelings into words, something she’d never been very good at.  “This” she finally sighed, gesturing to her legs and her crutches, “everything.” Silence filled the room again, but Serena didn’t push, she gave Bernie time to get her thoughts in order and it paid off when she eventually spoke again, “I hate not being able to do what I want when I want” she finally told Serena, “I used to be independent, I was athletic, always on the move. I used to enjoy running, liked to work out if I had any free time.  I was in the army, had a job where I thrived on adrenaline, was one of the best trauma surgeons in the RAMC.  I ran a marathon three years ago, and now…” Bernie’s voice dropped, as she whispered, “some mornings I wake up and I don’t know if I’m going to make it from the bed to the bathroom.” She tried to wipe discretely at the tears she’d not managed to hold back, but Serena saw them and stood to take a box of tissues from her desk, putting them on the end table by Bernie’s chair as she continued, “Seventeen steps.  I counted, it’s seventeen steps from my bed to the toilet and some mornings, it takes more effort than the marathon did” she reached for a tissue, “I feel useless. I am useless.”

“You are not useless” Serena said quickly, “have you thought about teaching perhaps? Or writing for a journal? You must have seen plenty of interesting case studies.”

Bernie shrugged, “I wouldn’t be much use with the practical side of teaching” she mumbled, “my…” she took a deep breath, she wasn’t used to sharing such personal facts with people she knew well, never mind those she’d barely met before, but she was determined to give this a proper try, at least then no one would be able to complain when she said it hadn’t worked, because she couldn’t see how it would.  “It affected my hands as well as my legs” she finally admitted, “but I regained more functionality in my hands.”

“I remember you mentioning that last time” Serena nodded, glancing down at her notes, “do you still have physio?” Bernie nodded and Serena asked, “and, if you don’t mind me asking, are they expecting your mobility to improve?”

Bernie shrugged, “they told me I wouldn’t walk, but I did” she told Serena, “so nobody can really give me a prognosis, things might improve, this might be the best I can get. I don’t, probably shouldn’t be walking” she admitted, “but I didn’t, couldn’t” she sighed and ran her hand through tangled blonde curls, “I’m used to being active, if I couldn’t at least walk, then I didn’t see any point in…” she trailed off.

“In being alive?” Serena finished for her, earning her a single nod in response as Bernie put down her glass, pulling her tissue through her hands nervously. “Is that when your suicidal thoughts started?” Bernie nodded again but didn't verbalise a response and Serena paused for a moment before asking, “have you ever tried to act on your thoughts?” again, her question was met with silence and Serena approached her next question in a slightly different manner, “if I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?”

“That depends on what you ask” Bernie said quietly.

Serena let out a small chuckle, “I suppose I asked for that, you know my job isn't to judge you though, I want to help you and it makes my job a lot easier if you can be honest with me. I know this isn't easy for you and if you want to end the session at any time then you can do that, you're in control here.”

Bernie nodded “I don't…I’ve never" she sighed, “I'm used to bottling things up, talking about things, it's…” she shrugged as she picked at the tissue.

“It makes you feel vulnerable?” Serena suggested, “when you've spent so long building walls to protect yourself and then you're coming here knowing that it's my job to break through those walls?”

Bernie nodded, “something like that, yeah.”

“That's completely normal, a lot of people feel like that when they first start therapy, but this is a safe space, it's your space, nothing you say will leave this room unless you ask for me to speak to someone else on your behalf.”

Bernie nodded, “I'll try” she whispered, still picking anxiously at the tissue, “I'll try and answer your question honestly.”

“Thank you” Serena smiled softly but Bernie didn't look up to see it, “when I bring up the thoughts you've had” Serena asked her, “do you not want to tell me because it's hard for you to talk about, or are you worried I'm going to have you sectioned.”

Bernie continued picking at the tissue, her lap getting covered in tiny white shreds of paper. “Both” she said honestly.

Serena nodded, “you're a medic, would I be right to assume you at least know the basic requirements to have someone sectioned under the mental health act?” Bernie gave a nod, “and as a medic, if someone told you they were feeling how you're feeling right now, would you start that process?”

“I don't know” Bernie said honestly. She hated this, hated feeling so weak and vulnerable but she’d made a promise that she’d stay for the whole hour so stay she would.

“Having suicidal thoughts is not uncommon in people with depression, admitting to having had, or still having those thoughts, won't make me section you. But I need to ask, have you made any plans? Do you feel like you might act on those thoughts?”

Bernie reached for her glass, her hands shaking as she dropped the remainder of the tissue into her lap to lift the glass to her lips, trying to alleviate her sudden dry mouth. This was too much, she should never have come back, “I” she took a deep breath the glass shaking in her hands, “I'm not going to take my own life.”

Serena felt a weight lift from her chest as she always did in situations like this. “I'm glad to hear that” she told her truthfully, "but do I take it from the lack of response to my other question…”

Bernie nodded before Serena has chance to finish speaking, “like you said, I'm a medic. I'm a medic and I've been prescribed vast quantities of painkillers and sleeping pills, I erm, I know how many I'd need to take to fall asleep one night and for this hell to all be over” she admitted, “but I, I won't. My friend, the one that made me make this appointment. She's been coming round every day since…” Bernie trailed off, not wanting to admit what had happened after her last appointment, how the sleeping tablets had knocked her out for almost 24 hours, but her leg had been so bruised, so painful when she woke that she knew moving wasn’t an option, she knew she’d not even make the few short steps to the commode at the bottom of her bed, something else she hated using, so she’d done the only thing she could think of, thanking every deity she could think of when she found her phone hadn’t run out of charge, as she dialed a familiar number, her voice laced with tears as she asked the one person she could trust for help.  “She… If I did, it’d be her, she’d be the one to… I couldn't do that to her” Bernie finally finished her sentence.

“Okay” Serena nodded, making more notes on the page in front of her. “Can I ask, when you self medicate, what amount of medication or alcohol are we talking about?”

“It's not… It’s not a consistent thing. I take an extra sleeping tablet maybe once or twice a week and I, maybe the same with the painkillers” she shrugged.

“And the alcohol?”

“More than I should” was Bernie’s quiet response, not giving Serena time to prompt her further before mumbling, “a bottle.”

“A day? A week?”

“A week, whiskey, it would probably more but…”

“But?” Serena was surprised at how open Bernie was being this time around but was still wary of pushing her too far.

Bernie gestured to her legs. “getting to the shop to get more isn't always easy.”

“Is the alcohol something you’d like to cut down?”

“Not particularly. But I know I probably should.”

Serena nodded, again jotting something down in her notes. “I’d recommend you didn't drink alcohol with the antidepressants I'm going to prescribe you, but don't worry if you don't manage to cut it out completely.” Bernie nodded and chanced a glance at her watch, surprised to see that almost 55 minutes had passed since she'd entered the room, “you've done really well today” Serena smiled, seeing the relief flooding over Bernie’s body when she realised she wouldn't be forced to reveal any more skeletons in her closet.

“Thanks” Bernie nodded before noticing the tissue, torn to pieces on her lap, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be” Serena stood and fetched the waste paper basket from under her desk so Bernie could clean herself up. “Believe it or not, that's not the worst thing someone's ever done in here.”

Bernie chuckled quietly, a genuine smile briefly forming on her face, a sight that made Serena smile too, “I can imagine.”

“So.” Serena placed her things back on her desk and replaced the bin, “would you like to book another appointment? You don't have to do it now though, you can call up another time or make the appointment online again when you're ready” she said, not wanting Bernie to feel pressured into coming back.

“No, I erm, I'll do it now, stop myself from putting it off.”

Serena explained to Bernie that she could have appointments that were as frequent or as infrequent as she liked and, whilst Bernie felt like next week would be too soon to put herself through this again, Serena thought a month would be too much of a gap between the appointments so they agreed that Bernie would come back in a fortnight for her next appointment.

“Here's your prescription” Serena handed over a sheet of paper, Bernie glancing at the name of the drug before folding the sheet and pushing it in her pocket. “It’s recommended that you take one tablet a day, first thing in the morning, but one of the most common side effects is drowsiness, if you find that it is making you drowsy then try taking it at night instead.”

Bernie nodded as she reached for her crutches and slowly pulled herself to her feet, “thank you” she said as she made her way out of the room, thanking Serena as she held open the office door for her.

“It's not a problem” she smiled, “and I'll see you in two weeks time.” She’d intended on walking Bernie to the door, making sure she made it down the steps safely this time, but there was another woman already waiting on the corridor. A woman who stood as the office door opened and asked Bernie if she was ready to go home, leading Serena to believe that she was the ‘friend’ that Bernie had mentioned in her appointment. She walked them to the door, watching as the younger woman took one of Bernie’s crutches from her, wrapping an arm around her waist and allowing the blonde to lean into her, easily supporting most of her body weight as she helped her safely down the stairs.

Serena retreated back into her office once she knew Bernie had made it down the steps outside her home without incident, clearing up the rest of the shredded tissue and moving the armchairs back into their usual position.  She felt like she’d managed to break down some of Bernie’s walls over the past hour and only hoped that would continue into her next session.

Bernie meanwhile was lost in her thoughts as she got settled in the car, not sure how she felt about the therapy, it had been hard, she’d known it would be, but she hadn’t expected herself to give away so much so soon, wasn’t sure why she’d felt able to open up to Doctor Campbell in a way she’d never been able to open up to anyone else in the past.

“You okay?” it wasn't the words, but the gentle squeeze of her arm that pulled Bernie from her thoughts and she nodded gently, she wasn't ready to talk about her session yet and she hoped the other woman understood that. And she did, she’d known Bernie for long enough that she knew when to push her and when to wait for her to speak in her own time so she simply asked, “did you get a prescription?” another nod, “I'll stop off and get it for you on the way home.”

The rest of the drive home passed in silence, Bernie’s eyes meeting the other woman’s for the first time since she’d left Serena’s office. “Thank you” she whispered, as the passenger door was opened, two strong hands reaching out to help her to her feet, “I, I mean it Alex, I know this can't be easy for you but…”

“But you're stuck with me” Alex smiled, waiting for Bernie go get her balance before handing her the crutches that were propped against the car. “So you don't need to thank me Bern.”

Alex helped Bernie into her flat, settling her on the sofa and passing her the bag from the pharmacy, “thank you.”

Alex smiled, “I'll stick the kettle on, make us both a cuppa” she said, wanting to give Bernie some time alone with her thoughts, “and if you're lucky, I might even order us a Chinese too.”

“You don't need to do that” Bernie didn't look up at Alex as she fiddled with the paper bag from the pharmacy, noting that Alex had paid for her meds without question.

“No, but you need to eat Bern, and if I know you, which I do, there'll be nothing in the kitchen worth eating, so a takeaway it is.”


End file.
